"I thought you once said you were book-keeper at Christie's?"
"Ah, yes. No; that is done with. It was impossible to get along with that fellow; that came to an end very quickly of its own accord."
"Why so?"
"Well, I happened to make a mis-entry one day, and so—"
"A false entry, eh?"
False entry! There stood "Missy," and asked me straight in the face if I had done this thing. He even asked eagerly, and evidently with much interest. I looked at him, felt deeply insulted, and made no reply.
"Yes, well, Lord! that might happen to the best fellow," he said, as if to console me. He still believed I had made a false entry designedly.
"What is it that, 'Yes, well, Lord! indeed might happen to the best fellow'?" I inquired. "To do that. Listen, my good man. Do you stand there and really believe that I could for a moment be guilty of such a mean trick as that? I!"
"But, my dear fellow, I thought I heard you distinctly say that."
